it is not.
The 43,325,123rd draft of my play is not crap. It's clear. It's tight. It's funny. It's slightly sloppy. It hurts.
It's kinda like me.
I'm so confused.
It kinda works.
Kinda like me.
Kinda.
Like.
Me.
What do I do now?
musings of a pixie-faced pinhead...on life, love and the pursuit of thespianism.
Introduce it to your friends?
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